


Wash Away The Past

by vienn_peridot



Series: Eta Carinae 230 [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Dom/sub, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Other, Pony Play, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienn_peridot/pseuds/vienn_peridot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the Functionalists were examining Rung they made an edit to his interfacing preferences that they couldn't (or wouldn't) remove.<br/>Two members of his Cohort (who happen to share this particular kink) help Rung accept what cannot be changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tronvaltron on Tumblr said:  
> "im looking for porn of robots getting nonconsensually reprogrammed to have arousal reactions to shit they werent into before who can help me out"
> 
> BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. Especially when I'm crook.

When the Functionalists were testing him they had also experimented with implanting and subsequently removing a wide variety of behaviours and reactions that were alien to his own intrinsic nature in order to see if they would ‘take’.

Sometimes they didn’t bother to remove them. Maybe they simply forgot, but Rung didn’t believe that the Functionalist Council would be so sloppy.

In any case, that was the past.

What mattered was right here, in his quarters on the Lost Light.

Right now, with two of his Cohort helping him integrate and accept one of the kinks the Functionalists had implanted and neglected to remove.

 “So I’m OK with wherever you want to take this,” Rodimus was saying as Ultra Magnus prepared him for the assignation. “Interfacing or not, it’s all good. So long as you’re comfortable with it. I’ll ping you via comms if I want you to stop at any point before the time we agreed on.”

Rodimus was sitting in the middle of the floor while Ultra Magnus carefully attached the various pieces of gear they’d brought safely stowed in their subspace pockets.

“And I shall do the same if I become too uncomfortable for us to continue, except I shall be contacting Ultra Magnus as well.” Rung confirmed.

“I will be in your study, Rung. You will only need to raise your voice.” Magnus observed, frowning as he double-checked the solid, hooflike mittens which encased the speedster’s hands.

“I would not wish to startle Ginger by shouting,” Rung said primly, his eyebrows drawing together.

Rodimus’ engine rumbled happily as Magnus carefully manipulated his pedes into the configuration which would allow him to attach solid ‘boots’ which mimicked the solid one-toed pede of a member of the Equine species of Earth. Magnus called them boots and Rodimus called them sandals, but both appeared to agree on the word ‘hoof’ for them once they were attached to Rodimus.

“You’re going to be good at this, Rung.” Rodimus said, testing the motion of his leg joints at Magnus’ direction. “Yeah they’re perfect, Magnus.”

“Are you going to be wearing your tail?” Rung asked as he watched Magnus help the Captain to his pedes.

“I was going to, unless you don’t want me to?” Rodimus shot Rung a questioning look as Magnus carefully held him by the waist until he got his balance.

It only took Rodimus a moment to find his balance on his sturdy hooves, legs spread slightly wider than normal and aft pushed out ever so slightly. Rung had to replay the last sentence and reset his vocaliser before he could reply.

“I-I would like you to.” The small mech said, watching with wide optics as Ultra Magnus slowly drew the tail out of Rodimus’ subspace. “It is very beautifully made, like the rest of you.”

Rodimus preened at the praise as the baseplate of his tail was clipped into place at the back of his pelvic armour. The waterfall of red and gold strands matched his plating perfectly, brushing the back of his knee joints gently as he turned to face Rung where the psychiatrist sat on the couch.

“Keep saying nice things like that, Specs, and you’ll have the entire Cohort wanting to tack up for you.” Rodimus said, enjoying Rung’s flustered expression and the little thrill of desire that went through his field.

“Would you like to halter him?” Magnus asked, carefully offering the simple leather halter they were using to the smaller bot. “I believe this would be beneficial for you.”

Rung contemplated the halter where it hung from Magnus’ large fingers. The innocent little collection of straps and buckles embodied the kind of trust, power and control he’d never experienced in regards to this situation.

Three things he’d lacked utterly when the Functionalists had implanted this perversion within him and left it there to merge with his own desires so seamlessly it was impossible to remove.

Now, for the first time, a part of him didn’t shy away from the idea.

Rung was with his Cohort, he was safe.

They would look after him just as he looked after them.

He could do this.

“I believe you are correct, Magnus.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The halter goes on.  
> Rodimus becomes Ginger.

Cycling his vents deeply, Rung pushed himself up out of his seat. Rodimus was grinning fit to split his cheekplates and even Ultra Magnus allowed himself a small uptwitch of his lip components as Rung approached the waiting mechs.

Carefully, he took Rodimus’ halter from the SIC, feeling the smooth leather grip his fingers pleasantly. It was a simple piece that was well-used and obviously very well cared-for, like all of Rodimus’ interfacing toys. It also had a homey, comfortable sort of feel to it.

_Home_.

Rung let his field reach out to express the feeling of safety/security/belonging he couldn’t quite put into words. Their fields reached back, wrapping the small mech in reassurance and a genuine spark-deep desire for the planned activities that went a long way towards making Rung comfortable with expressing his own desires.

“Hey, Specs. It’s ok.” Rodimus said, lowering his helm to press his nasal ridge against Rungs. “Remember; _anything_ that you’re comfortable with.”

There was definite innuendo as well as reassurance in Rodimus’ field. Magnus’ vents huffed in a small sigh as Rung reached up to Rodimus’ faceplates with his own small hand.

“Understood.” The small orange mech said, before placing a finger on Rodimus’ lower lip. “Open, please. My hands are not as large as Magnus’”

Rodimus’ optics sparkled as he opened his lipplates. Rung slipped the bit inside before the speedster could voice whatever smart comment was burning away under his plating. Small orange fingers flew to slide the straps comfortably over flared cheekpieces and fasten the halter straps behind Rodimus’ helm.

The speedster gave a very equine snort of surprise through his vents, optics going wide and mouthing at the soft bit between his denta. Magnus handed Rung a leadrope which he clipped to the halter before Rodimus –Ginger now that his halter was on- could take it into his head to bolt.

“ _Good_ pony.” Rung said, gently smoothing a hand over Rodimus’ pointed spaulder. “I am sorry that I startled you.”

Warmth flooded outwards from Rung’s spark to fill his frame as ‘Ginger’ whuffed through his vents and bobbed his head gently, settling the bit comfortably over his glossa.

“Will you be alright without my presence?” Ultra Magnus asked, carefully observing how Rung handled the ponified Rodimus.

“I think so.” Although outwardly he was calm as ever, the stress that had been in Rung’s field was slowly draining away at the open acceptance of his Cohort-mates.

It also helped that Rodimus seemed determined to behave himself.

“Very well. I shall be in your study if either of you need anything.” Ultra Magnus said.

The SIC gave Rodimus’ helm crest a gentle rub before wandering through to the small room Rung used as an office-away-from-the-office. He would still be monitoring them, but right now Rung needed to focus on the least inhibited member of their Cohort in order to have the best chance at fully claiming this as a part of himself.

Rung gently stroked ‘Ginger’ to keep him occupied until he could hear Magnus settling himself in the study. The speedster’s engine rumbled happily and he lipped playfully at Rung’s antennae as best he could around the bit, field full of gentle mischief. The smaller mech ducked away, gently pulling on the leadrope until Rodimus’ helm was at optic level with his own.

“Alright then, Ginger. Shall we go give you a good grooming before you decide to get into trouble?” Rung had to fight to keep his voice steady as his processor filled with images of running his hands over red and gold plating.

He could feel anticipation threading its way through Rodimus’ field, a little electric tingle over the spark-deep relaxation that came of having the burden of his responsibilities temporarily lifted from him.

Rung made a clicking sound with his glossa and stepped forward, his spark singing as Rodimus followed easily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter by [The-Sparkbeat](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> Grooming and tactile begin next chapter.  
> I have no idea what I'm doing so I hope I'm getting this right :s


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the games begin.

Rodimus’ booted pedes made a satisfying sound against the floor of Rung’s quarters as he obediently followed one pace behind and to the right of the small mech. He deliberately matched the length of his steps to Rungs and picked up his ‘hooves’ prettily. Sure nobody was watching him right now, but sometimes just showing off for its own sake made him feel good.

Rung was responding well to the calm happiness Rodimus deliberately projected through his field. The speedster shunted away thoughts of what he’d do to those who’d hurt his Cohort-mate if he ever got his hands on them.

Now was _not_ the time for those kinds of thoughts.

Right now he was ‘Ginger’ and all he had to worry about was doing what he was told.

Or not, as the case may be.

It went without saying that he was going to behave himself for Rung. The mech already had enough on his plate without having to worry about Rodimus acting up for him.

That could come later.

Tail swishing and pedes clopping, Rodimus was lead into Rung’s private washracks and over to a non-slip rubber mat that had obviously been laid down just for their little session. Rung paused before the mat and Rodimus stopped too, careful of his footing on the tiled floor.

“This is so you don’t slip over, and it will be easier on your knees than the floor since I may require you to kneel so I can reach your entire frame.” Rung explained, his field prickling where it brushed against Rodimus’ at the mention of kneeling.

Rodimus considered what activities Rung might have in mind besides grooming his upper body if he was asked to kneel. He didn’t hide the flush of arousal in his field at the naughty little thoughts his processor provided, letting Rung process the reaction until the orange mech gathered himself and clucked at Rodimus, directing him forward onto the non-slip mat.

Dutifully, ‘Ginger’ inspected the mat, craning his helm down to get a good look and pawing carefully with a hoof-boot to get a feel for the surface texture. Once that was done Rodimus stepped forward into the exact centre of the mat, striking a little pose to make Rung laugh.

It worked, and Rodimus reveled in the sound.

“You are a _very_ clever pony,” Rung said and Rodimus’ engine purred.

Rung fastened the leadrope to a piece of thin wire that had been attached to one of the projections on the washrack wall. It would keep Rodimus in place but would break if he fell over or _really_ freaked out.

Not that there was much chance of him panicking over something like grooming and a little tactile overload or three, but his Cohort always insisted on being _careful_.

They always took such care of him and he repaid it every chance he got.

Like now, for instance.

Disjointed surges of bright enjoyment and old pain chased themselves through Rung’s EM Field as the psychiatrist carefully brushed out Ginger’s tail and braided it up to keep it out of the way. Rodimus stood patiently until he was done, whuffing through his vents and looking around the washrack as his field focused on the mech behind him. Rung was humming the melody of some old song as he worked and listening gave Rodimus something to focus on besides _not_ fidgeting too much.

By the time Rung moved to inspect his hoofboots the smaller mech’s field held fewer dark flashes of bitterness. The front ‘hooves’ were taken care of quickly with a small debris pick and Rodimus’ engine _purred_ as small fingers traced lightly down the inside of his leg, starting mid-thigh and moving down to grasp the hoof.

“Up.” Rung’s voice was firm as he gave a light tug on Rodimus’ pede.

Rodimus obeyed without thinking, shifting his weight to balance on the opposite leg and lifting the pede so Rung could see the bottom of his boot. It was too thick for him to feel if anything was removed from the base, but the orange mech inspected it carefully before releasing Rodimus’ pede.

The process was repeated with the other leg and when he had his ‘hooves’ back Rodimus pawed at the rubber mat, preening under the praise Rung lavished on him for his good behaviour. Rung’s field relaxed as Rodimus used his own to silently reinforce the message that he was thoroughly enjoying their little game.

“I don’t know what Magnus was talking about, calling you a troublemaker.” Rung said, moving to swap his pick for a large plating brush. “You are being _extremely_ well-behaved.”

_Is that a hint?_

Rodimus shifted, tugging against his leadrope. He had enough slack to move up behind Rung and drape his neck over the smaller mech’s shoulder. Field alight with playful mischief he snuffled into Rung’s audial and mouthed clumsily at his neck cables, chasing more attention from those clever little hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung establishes his preferred method of discipline

#  Chapter Four

Rung’s concentration was scattered, pulled in many directions by the multitude of ways this session could go and the fact that Rodimus had made it _explicitly_ clear that he was perfectly happy to do whatever Rung wanted. He nearly jumped out of his plating when Rodimus exhaled across his audial receptor.

The warm lipplates and rubber bit nudging at his neck cabling tempted him to forego the grooming and see if the constant low pulse of arousal in Rodimus’ EM Field also translated into a state of physical arousal.

A long lifetime of practice kept a smirk from Rung’s faceplates as he selected a long-bristled brush from the grooming kit.

_You’ll have to try much harder than_ that _, my dear Rodimus_.

Tucking the brush under his arm, Rung turned and reached up to hook his fingers into the large rings that attached the bit to Rodimus’ halter. The feel of oral solvents leaking from the corners of the speedster’s oral cavity to soak into the soft material of his halter made Rung’s spark throb painfully as he pulled gently, using the bit to control the larger mech and bring their forehelms into contact.

He smiled into the wide blue optics that shuttered innocently at him.

“Perhaps I should make myself clear, Ginger.” Rung said, stroking Rodimus’ lower lipplate with his microphone-less thumb, “If you continue to behave so well for me I am _quite_ happy to spoil you absolutely rotten with treats. Misbehaviour on your part means _no_ treats.”

Rodimus’ optics _blazed_ , his field roiling with a complicated mix of temptation, greed and desire.

Rung continued to smile pleasantly, keeping his field firm against little pleading nudges that felt very much like Rodimus wordlessly trying to bargain for treats _just because_. The orange mech wondered what Rodimu’ ears would have been doing right now, if he was an actual pony. It would have been very interesting to watch them flick in response to his inner struggle.

_There’s an idea for Perceptor._

Eventually the desire for tangible rewards won out over the pleasure of pranking around to get attention. Rodimus dropped his helm and Rung let his hands move with the speedster as he gently nuzzled the glass of Rung’s chestplate in apology.

“It is _entirely_ my fault for not establishing this from the start.” Rung said, gently rubbing along Rodimus’ jawline as the mech continued to nuzzle at his chestplates, “I knew of your reputation Ginger and I shouldn’t have taken your good behaviour for granted.”

More gentle rubs, more nuzzling. Rodimus seemed amused; field caressing Rung’s with easy forgiveness as the psychiatrist exerted light pressure on the bit to bring Rodimus’ head back up to the same level as his own.

“I shall put this policy into practice as we continue, alright?” Even though he knew that Rodimus couldn’t speak, Rung needed to ask.

He got his answer in the form of a flash of keen anticipation and some vigorous head-bobbing, red and gold plating rippling with eagerness.

“Alright then. Magnus told me you know this one.” Once again Rung placed gentle pressure on the bit in Rodimus’ mouth. “Ginger; _back_.”

Rodimus tried to toss his head, but Rung held firmly to the snaffles and continued to press the bit against the speedster’s mouthplates.

When he found escape impossible, Rodimus grudgingly took a step backwards, which Rung praised lavishly with both voice and field.

Another command, another brief struggle, another step; more praise.

When Rodimus was again centred on the mat Rung let go of the halter and slid his hands down to smooth the tense cables of Rodimus’ neck, crooning praise that had the speedster’s engine purring happily. He pulled one hand away, using the other to carefully check the halter to make sure it wasn’t pinching anything it shouldn’t. When he finished the check, Rung accessed a compartment he’d filled especially for today with a quick flick of his free hand.

“That was _very_ good, Ginger.” Rung said, holding a specifically prepared miniature energon cube up so Rodimus could see it.

It was firm, silver-dusted and about the size of Rodimus’ fingertip.

Rung had asked Drift to make him several batches.

At the sight of the tiny cube Rodimus’ optics went wide and bright and he positively _vibrated_ with excitement, mouthing at the bit. Rung gently slipped the tiny cube into Rodimus’ oral cavity, receiving an _extremely_ slobbery thanks. He gave Rodimus a few moments to enjoy the treat before taking the next step to move their evening along.

“Alright Ginger, it is time to get you clean.” Rung vented deeply, anticipation whipping through his field. “Ginger; _kneel_.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus responds best to encouragement.

# Chapter Five

Rodimus wasn’t sure what was sweeter; the small energon-replica sugarcube Rung had given him or feeling the arousal crackling through the small mech’s field as he gave Rodimus the command to kneel.

With an uncontrollable rev of his engine Rodimus obeyed.

He put everything he had into making himself a pretty sight, extending a leg and bowing low over it. From there he shifted his weight onto the extended leg and let the one behind fold so his lower leg was resting flat on the floor while the forward leg remained bent. The entire time Rodimus kept his optics fixed on Rung, watching his biolighting flare in bright, unstable pulses as his field swayed and filled with that heady sense of power and pleasure that comes from being able to command the willing submission of another.

 _It doesn’t matter_ how _he got this kink; he’s a natural. Oh slag that’s_ hot _._

Rung had just shifted so he was standing hipshot, unconsciously wetting his lipplates with his glossa as he did so. The sight sent heat spinning from Rodimus’ spark straight to his interface components. Even with those glasses on Rodimus could feel Rung’s optics devouring his every motion. It goading him into slowing down, gracefully bringing the forward leg back under his body with exacting care, shifting so his thighs were spread just a _little_ wider than absolutely necessary. All his weight was now balanced perfectly on the wide kibble of his kneecaps with extra support available from his lower legs, should he need it.

“ _Excellent_ Ginger, I’m so proud of you.” Rung said, his subglyphs full of praise.

Rodimus stayed still as Rung walked around him, chirruping with surprise when the small mech gently slipped another of those wonderful little cubes into his oral cavity. He settled the candy at the back of his glossa and let it melt there, pure delight filling Rodimus’ field and his engine purring louder.

That seemed to be the response Rung wanted, the outer layers of his EM Field _finally_ relaxing to mesh with Rodimus’, communicating joy and a slowly growing undercurrent of desire. Something that had been coiled into a tight knot in the speedster’s chest relaxed as the field contact grew.

 _This_ was how it was supposed to be with Cohort

Each open to the other; not closed off and censoring themselves.

He heard Rung pick up the handheld showerhead and switch on the solvent flow but refrained from looking, letting his optics dim as the candy melted, filling his oral cavity with a distinctive tart-sweet flavour that was vaguely reminiscent of valve lubrication.

A gentle stream of warm solvent struck his neck cables, startling Rodimus. His engine faltered and he tossed his head, optics and biolights flaring. Rung soothed him with voice and field until Rodimus relaxed, mouthing at the bit. He deliberately flared his plating to let the cleaning fluid underneath as Rung methodically soaked every part of his frame from the neck down.

Then Rung put the showerhead aside and employed the brush.

The long, flexible bristles slid smoothly over Rodimus’ already-clean plating, flicking into gaps to stroke untouched sensors and slithering teasingly through wire-thin transformation seams.

A groan started deep in the speedster’s chest at the first gentle stroke, bleeding into a continuous throaty growl from both engine and vocaliser as the smaller mech continued to work his magic.

Rung was humming again, something melodic and older than old that Rodimus couldn’t focus on. The cleaning brush left trails of charged circuity behind and Rung left no spot on his frame untouched, as exactingly thorough in this as he was with assembling his model ships. Rodimus quivered, his flexing armour scattering droplets of solvent to the mat as those left on his interface panels evaporated from the heat building inexorably behind them.

It was blatantly obvious that Rung thoroughly enjoyed being able to command these reactions from Rodimus. His field opened up, allowing Rodimus to impress the full extent of his helpless arousal upon the mech causing it. They slid into a deeper union of fields which the Prime welcomed with joy.

Somewhere along the line Rodimus had forgotten to swallow and the melted candy mixed with his oral solvents began to escape his oral cavity. It dribbled slowly down his faceplates every time he fidgeted with the bit instead of moving his frame and made a sticky mess of his chin.

He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

By the time Rung set down the brush Rodimus was absolutely certain he was going to melt into a puddle of happiness. His entire frame tingled, exquisitely sensitised so that every puff of warm air from Rung’s vents felt like hands stroking over his plating. Rodimus’ entire awareness narrowed to holding himself obediently in his kneeling position in the face of the nearly overwhelming craving for _more_. Oral solvents dripped as he clenched his denta around the bit, determined not to move.

He would be _good_.

He _would_ behave for Rung.

That was all he had to do.

It was all that mattered.

The orange mech’s field was deeply entwined with his now; they were woven so closely into each other he couldn’t tell where his own left off and Rung’s began. Rodimus didn’t need the humming to tell him where the other mech was as he put the bristle brush aside and dampened a sponge.

Gentle upwards pressure from two fingers placed beneath his chin had Rodimus tipping his helm, optics cycling slowly.

Rung had removed his glasses.

He was smiling down at Rodimus with his unfiltered optics. Rung raised the sponge and went to work on the speedster’s faceplates, using the lightest possible pressure as if he was as strong as Fortress Maximus or Overlord and Rodimus was made of spun glass.

Rodimus wallowed in Rung’s gaze as the smaller mech gently cleaned the sticky candy-scented drool off his chin, smiling fondly as he did so. When he was satisfied that Rodimus was clean Rung tucked the sponge under his arm, heedless of the fluid that dripped from it to stain his armour. He took Rodimus’ face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on the speedster’s nasal ridge, projecting pride and satisfaction deep into their entwined fields.

“There we go; all done.” Rung said, small engine purring loudly. “I’m _so_ proud of you, Ginger. You’ve been _very_ good.”

Those words accompanied by Rung’s thumbs tracing the contours of his lower lipplate proved to be Rodimus’ undoing. His frame gave an uncontrollable jerk as the pleasure that had been building finally peaked, hurtling through him in an unexpectedly powerful full-frame overload.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roddy is loud.  
> Rung spoils him.

# Chapter Six

Rung felt the beginning of Rodimus’ overload before the mech was even aware of it.

Slim fingers caught the tingle of electrical discharge just before Rodimus gave a spastic lurch, helm jerking sideways to burrow into Rung’s shoulder as he all but convulsed with the force of the overload surging through his systems. The solvent left on his frame boiled off in a wash of steam as his frame temperature spiked dramatically.

Second-hand pleasure washed from Rodimus, through their combined fields and into Rung’s frame. It heightened the smaller mechs arousal but did nothing about the insistent throb in his spark chamber and interfacing components. One small hand remained on Rodimus’ helm to support it against his shoulder while the other one dropped to the speedster’s narrow waist, outlined starkly by the halogen flare of orange biolighting.

While the force of the overload itself was a sight to behold, what Rung considered to be truly spectacular was the _noise_ Rodimus made in the grips of it. His engine screamed into redline before dropping gears and winding on again with a roar that made the solvent puddles dance across the non-slip mat. Underneath al of it Rodimus moaned, the bit providing no barrier to the sound as is shot straight from Rungs audial to his spike, which pressurised against the inside of his secondary interfacing cover with a painful _thump_.

 _Not now_. _I’m busy enjoying_ this _._

Thanks to the insulating effect of the mat the arcs of electricity snaking across Rodimus’ frame couldn’t discharge into the floor below him. Trapped, they jumping out across the solvent puddles or snapped into Rung, sending pleasurable little splashes of extra charge into his already-burning systems.

Eventually the overload ebbed, leaving Rung with his arms full of panting ponymech.

Rodimus’ cooling systems dealt efficiently with the excess heat generated by his overload while Rung’s struggled to deal with his own as well as the extra heat being dumped on him from Rodimus. He panted through open lipplates, glad his lenses were in subspace.

If he was wearing them they would have fogged up when the solvent boiled off Rodimus and missed the delightful show.

Somehow Rung wasn’t surprised when Ultra Magnus pinged a polite request for comm contact to his HUD. The walls _between_ habsuites were soundproofed, but those within them were most definitely _not_.

And Rodimus _had_ been rather loud, after all.

Rung smiled to himself and gently stroked Rodimus’ side as he opened a commline that included all three of them.

::Yes, Magnus?::

::May I ask how things are going?::

::He’s slaggin’ _gooood,_ Mags:: Rodimus moaned, rubbing his faceplates against Rung’s neck cables as he joined the conversation.

::So I heard:: Ultra Magnus sounded dryly amused.

::I am fine. I have nothing against continuing until the appointed time, if Rodimus also wishes:: Rung said, carefully helping the larger mech back to his kneel.

::’m good. Honest:: Rodimus demonstrated by giving himself a good armour-settling shake without losing his balance.

::I shall resume my reading then. Magnus out::

The line closed and Rung gently stroked the speedster’s helm. Rodimus made a whickering sound, leaning into the touches with his engine rumbling. The lazy post-overload contentment in his field did nothing to help Rung’s state of arousal. Having ‘Ginger’ obey him so well and find such pleasure in doing so was a gift Rung had never thought to find after he discovered what the Functionalists had left lurking in the corners of his mind.

He continued to stroke Rodimus’ helm until his field indicated full recovery from the overload, glad of the time to let his own charge ebb a bit. Both his spike and his valve were throbbing insistently and Rung firmly overrode _another_ request to allow his primary interfacing cover to fold aside.

There was absolutely no doubt that right now Rung had all of the speedsters attention. Not only did Rodimus _know_ he was there, right now Rung was the sole focus of his awareness. It was an intoxicating, humbling realisation that made his cooling fans drone a rather embarrassingly loud note.

As if that was a cue Rodimus nibbled playfully at Rung’s fingers, slobbering all over them.

“Yes, yes.” Rung laughed, pulling another of the little energon treats from his compartment. “You’re being a _very_ good pony, Ginger. Waiting so patiently while an old mech’s mind wanders.”

It was gratifying to see how Rodimus’ optics lit up at the sight of the small cube. The way Rodimus whuffled at Rung’s palm before delicately picking up the candy with his lipplates sent a ripple of electricity down the small mech’s spinal struts.

Knowing his Cohort-mate as he did, Rung would bet good shanix that Rodimus had just blown directly into his thumb mic on _purpose_.

While Rodimus munched on the bribe, Rung walked slowly over to the grooming kit and picked up a chamois. It would take care of any solvent that somehow hadn't evaporated during his overload and bring the plating to a nice shine without having to be too fussy. He paused and cycled his vents, testing the extent of Rodimus’ obedience.

He heard some shuffling and champing, but nothing to indicate Rodimus was leaving his place.

Returning to the mech who waited obediently for him –unlike last time- Rung praised the ponymech lavishly for his good behaviour, letting his field fill with pride and slipping him another of Drift’s little silver-dusted cubes for good measure.

With that settled, the small mech began to polish Rodimus’ frame just as thoroughly as he’d rinsed and brushed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter done by [The-Sparkbeat](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung makes the pony too pretty for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my contribution to representations of Safe/Sane/Consensual BDSM on Feb 14th to counteract that horrific piece of abuse-glorifying offal being released at the movies.  
> Happy Valentines, Slaggers.

# Chapter 7

Rodimus smugly enjoyed his candy bribe while Rung started rubbing him down with a scandalously soft polishing cloth.

It didn’t get into seams the way the brush did but it still managed to raise his charge as Rung smoothed it over his plating, diligently bringing the ponymech to a lovely shine. If he hadn’t already overloaded this session Rodimus knew he definitely would have the instant Rung started in on his spoiler.

He couldn’t help the rev of his engine but he did turn the happy noises coming from his vocaliser into little nickers of pure hedonistic bliss.

Rung seemed to respond best to obvious signs that Rodimus was enjoying himself so the Speedster hammed it up a little, whickering happily as Rung finished bringing the wide gold spoiler to a fine gleam. The orange mech murmured reassuring nonsense when Rodimus twitched his backplating invitingly, pawing at the air with one hoof-mittened hand as if begging for _more polishing please!_

Slow, lazy pleasure spread through Rodimus’ frame in time with the gentle rubbing and he let it out into his field where it twined with Rung’s. He could feel the small mech relaxing further, the desire in his EMF growing as Rodimus unashamedly revelled in the pampering.

When the chamois touched Rodimus’ chestplates the ponymech’s second overload poured through him completely unannounced.

Thick waves of pleasure moving through his frame, producing a lovely lightshow as electrical discharge crackled across shiny red and gold armour. While it wasn’t as strong as the first overload it was relatively long and extremely enjoyable. _This_ time Rodimus was able to stay in full control of his frame. He whinnied happily and arching to show off his most attractive angles as the miniature lightning show danced across his frame in time with the pleasure which surged and ebbed and surged again.

When the overload finally petered out Rodimus sought Rung’s hand and nuzzled at delicate wrist joints.

By now heat was practically _pouring_ from the smaller mech, his vents gaping wide in an effort to help his straining cooling system. Rodimus could almost taste the charge running through Rung’s frame. He couldn’t imagine how the older mech was managing to keep his interfacing panel closed; briefly contemplating nuzzling it while Rung finished polishing his chestplate and sides.

He was already so close.

It wouldn't take much.

Just a little lean forwards and he could press his lipplates to scorching orange-painted metal.

Rodimus struggled with temptation and the ache behind his own panel, eventually deciding to hold still. The last thing he wanted to do was freak Rung out.

And he _was_ trying to behave and get those delicious little energon cubes, too.

All thoughts were blown right out of his head when Rung ran the chamois over Rodimus’ crotchplates and made a curious noise.

“What’s this?” Rung’s voice was an absolute marvel of innocence.

It was only the bit in his mouth that kept Rodimus from making a sarcastic remark that would have lost him access to Rung’s little cube-things for the rest of his natural life.

The words trying to leave Rodimus’ vocaliser morphed into a guttural grunting noise as he tossed his head, shifting his weight but not moving away from Rung as the psychiatrist placed two gentle fingers on Rodimus’ primary interfacing armour. The small mech’s field blazed with arousal and a self-doubt so strong it was almost painful.

“Ginger, are you going into heat?” Rung sounded concerned. “Your panel is _very_ hot and you appear to be leaking.”

Rodimus whined with engine and vocaliser when Rung moved his fingers and armed himself with the sponge to begin carefully dabbing at the lubricant seeping through the seams of Rodimus’ interfacing covers. It must have started at some point during his second overload because the speedster honestly had no memory of when it had begun.

“Yes, you _are_ leaking lubricant.” Worry filled Rung’s voice now as he continued to dab at the seams of Rodimus’ interfacing cover with the sponge.

All Rung was doing with those gentle little pats was making Rodimus leak _more_. It was the most exquisite torture to have to hold himself still and fidget with the bit instead of reacting the same way he would have done with Magnus.

_Don’t want to remind him of the Functionalists._

_I need to behave._

_He’s been hurt enough._

The teasing little touches stopped and Rung tossed the sponge aside, pressing their forehelms together. Rodimus blinked when an unexpected ping from Rung popped up on his HUD; a request to talk.

::’Sup Spectacles?::

::Would it be alright if I spiked you?::

Rodimus let his field fill with how much more than ‘alright’ it would be, backing it up with the only words he could think of.

:: ** _Slag. Yes_.** ::

With those words the uncertainty melted from the small mech’s field to be replaced by joy and liberation that Rodimus wanted to engrave permanently in his memory banks alongside an image capture of the smile lighting up Rung’s faceplates.

:: _Rodimus_... _ **Thank you**_ ::

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup things start getting sticky next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung braces himself for what is to come.

_This is ok. This really is ok._

They were the only thoughts Rung could scrape together for several long minutes as he pressed his forehelm to Rodimus’ and soaked in the unrestrained desire that flowed in waves from the younger mech.

He’d spent so long hating what the Functionalists had done it almost seemed impossible that now he could _finally_ begin to accept this part of himself.

Rung stayed with his forehelm pressed to Rodimus’ for as long as it took him to be sure his memories were firmly locked away. He soaked in the open warmth and expectation coming from the Captain’s field, using it as an antidote to the shadows of his past. Despite his purring and fiddling with the bit Rodimus was displaying patience Rung would never have expected from him.

Rung wrestled stubborn memories back into their archives where they belonged, rewarding ‘Ginger’s good behaviour with soothing strokes over sensitive helm kibble that shifted into a light massage of tense neck cabling .

_No more. They will take no more from me._

He could feel the lazy satisfaction of two good overloads slowly giving way to the special kind of thrill Rodimus’ field only held when he was anticipating a thorough spiking. Rung was familiar enough with it by now that as soon as he registered it his spike practically _ached_ to feel something other than the uncomfortable constriction of his pelvic structure.

Pressing a gentle kiss to Rodimus’ nasal ridge Rung stood and took a step back, admiring the beautiful sight of Rodimus on his knees, optics fixed intently on the orange mech while he waited for instruction.

“Ginger; four square.” Rung’s voice was rough as he gave the command he hadn’t expected to use this session.

The speedster’s engine gave a heavy rev that shook Rung’s plating and made the remaining Energon treats rattle in their hidden compartment. Rodimus lowered his upper body so that he was supported on knees and hoof-booted hands, helm up and looking forward while he assumed the closest thing to perfect conformation his frame would allow.

Every move was as smooth and sensuous as his previous kneel.

Rung’s oral cavity went dry at the sight; his spike throbbed insistently behind his firmly closed armour. Through their meshed fields he could feel Rodimus preening at Rung’s reaction, cheekily wriggling his aft so the tightly braided tail swept back and forward over the seams of his own closed interfacing array.

“That was _very_ well done, Ginger.” Rung said, reaching out to caress Rodimus’ helm crest.

Rodimus flexed his backplating as Rung moved to stand behind him, making the braided tail wiggle against his aft. By now the speedsters array was absolutely saturated. Rung swallowed a moan at the sight of fresh valve lubricant beading up around the seams of the primary interface panel. To better study the Captains state, Rung settled himself comfortably on his heels between Rodimus’ hoof-booted lower legs so that his optics level with the red pelvic armour of the larger mech.

Lubrication had escaped all layers of armour to seep from the seams of the external armour. Despite the care with which Rung had brushed out Ginger’s tail and braided it earlier, the bound length was still long enough to have dragged through the fluid leaking from Rodimus’ still-closed array and leave swiftly-drying streaks over his red plating.

Rung’s ventilations hitched and his fans ticked up another notch in an attempt to safely dump the surge of heat that flashed through him. It took him two attempts to reset his vocaliser so he could speak without sounding like he was choking on something.

As it was, the older mech’s words were still rough when he spoke.

“Ginger; _open_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long delay. The smutmuse up and vanished on me for a bit >.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung continues to drive the pony up the wall

“Ginger, _open_.”

Rodimus didn’t bother to control the excitement that shot through him at the raw lust in Rung’s tone. He let his armour snap open, hearing the initial rush of lubricant splatter to the floor while the rest trickled slowly down his thighs.

He wished he could record the noise Rung made. It was a downright sexy combination of moan and growl that would have made Rodimus overload on the spot if he was a voice mecha. It was a fight to stay still and quiet instead of whining and twitch his hips backwards when he heard Rung’s own armour open. The distinctive sound of the smaller mech’s spike pressurising didn’t helpe his self-control at _all_.

“Oh dear,” Rung sounded far too calm for the pure lust Rodimus could feel in his Field. “It looks like you _are_ in heat.”

Slim fingers slid over the swollen folds of Rodimus’ valve, collecting lubricant as they went. Rodimus shivered uncontrollably as he distinctly heard Rung lick his fingers clean, the careless slurping loud over the sound of their vents.

“Yes, you are.” Rung observed, smoothing his hands over the outside of Rodimus’ thighs.

The touch steadied Rodimus and he managed to get his trembling under control. Thumbs slid around the back of his thighs and up to trace the very edge of his valve array, skilfully dodging the trails of lubricant drying into a sticky mess all over the red  metal of his pelvic armour. Gentle pressure on the exposed protoform to each side of the speedster’s weeping valve spread the engorged outer folds so he could study the pulsing brightness of internal biolights.

“That does look a little uncomfortable, Ginger.” Rung’s low vocalisation threatened to start Rodimus shaking all over again. “You’re _very_ swollen and producing quite a lot of lubrication.”

Rodimus groaned, chewing on the bit in an attempt to keep still as Rung’s words brought more of said lubrication dribbling from his twitching, hungry valve. Without warning Rung shifted, slipping his hands together to plunge both thumbs as far as they would go into Rodimus’ valve.

The speedster’s engine roared and something that could have been a shout of surprise was choked off half-way through by the realisation that Rung’s thumbs just weren’t long enough to hit any of the really good nodes.

_I’m going to kick him. So help me Primus I am_ going _to kick him!_

Both thumbs retreated, one hand remaining in contact with his array. Two fingers spread Rodimus’ valve folds wide while the thumb gently stroked the slippery ridge that his sensory nubs became when his valve mod wasn’t engaged. It was enough to keep him pacified while Rung continued the mock-inspection of his valve.

Well, _mostly_ pacified.

The internal nodes that had been mercilessly teased by too-shallow penetration stepped up their demands for attention now that the outer sensor ring was being more-or-less satisfied with slow strokes from Rung’s thumb. The gentle touches continued with occasional catches in the rhythm that seemed familiar enough to make Rodimus pay attention to the input from his audials.

Harsh vents and familiar creaks from behind told him _precisely_ what Rung was doing.

_You cheeky slagger!_

The smaller mech was _definitely_ self-servicing. He couldn’t hear any squishing noises, so it was easy to figure out that while Rung was crouched back there with one hand on Rodimus’ valve the one was other working over his own spike.

Rodimus groaned, his callipers cycling down and sending fresh lubricant flooding from his valve, internal workings trying desperately to close around an intruder that wasn’t there. A low moan from Rung’s vocaliser made Rodimus clench his denta _hard_ on the bit to vent his frustration.

_I’m gonna_ kick _him if he doesn’t spike me soon!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA I'M GOING TO HELL


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rung and Ginger go for a little ride.  
> (AKA Roddy FINALLY gets spiked)

Rung bit his lower lipplate, moaning deep in his vocaliser when he saw Rodimus’ oozing valve. The intricate folds were swollen, shining with lubrication produced during the speedster’s previous two overloads. The whole structure glistened, reflecting in the soft golden glow of the ring of biolights surrounding the entire valve array like a target.

Unable to restrain himself, Rung had a hand wrapped a hand around his straining spike; he was stroking it slowly in an attempt to keep his desire in check. His moan rose in pitch when a fresh stream of lubricant welled from Rodimus’ valve and ran down the inside of one thigh to splatter across the rubber mat. The smaller mech groaned again, working his thumb over the head of his spike as he continued to tease the sensory ring hidden in the external folds of Rodimus’ valve.

Irritation coiled through the speedsters’ field and Rung didn’t bother to hide his smile, positioning himself on his knees between Rodimus’ legs. He pulled his fingers away from the slippery valve and shifted the bound tail to the side, using the hand still on his spike to position it just so at the centre of the complex series of folds that made up the visible portion of Rodimus’ modified valve. Rung made certain to completely avoid the dense sensory ridge, an action Rodimus didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

Before Ginger could do more than snort and twitch his plating, Rung gripped red pelvic armour tightly and slammed his hips forward, sinking effortlessly into Rodimus’ well-lubricated valve.

Rodimus’ frame jerked at the intrusion and dropped his helm with a moan of relief.

Rung stayed like that, spike jammed to the base inside the ponymech with lubricant running down both their thighs for a long moment. He cycled his vents twice and made sure his memories weren’t about escape his tight control and bite them both in the aft. Rodimus flexed his callipers, gently gripping the shaft of Rung’s spike and wordlessly sending pleasure and support through their joined EM Fields.

When he felt confident in his hold on the present Rung began to move, sliding slowly out of Rodimus’ valve until only the head of his spike remained within the ponymech before plunging himself back to the hilt in Rodimus’ welcoming heat. He set a slow, luxurious pace; savouring the slide of lubrication, caress of flexing callipers and the zing from charged sensor nodes over the ridges of his spike. Maintaining the unusual rhythm helped ground him further in the present, keeping memories of the Functionalists where they belonged.

Every thrust jolted a satisfied cry from Rodimus that changed to a pleading whine when the teasingly slow withdrawal began. Aching valve nodes were stimulated roughly and soothed to a slow burn by the exchange of charge with their counterparts on Rung’s spike. Each time their pelvic housing crashed together the charge shot higher.

The psychiatrist knew that by the time they were done he would have red paint transfers all over the front of his pelvic housing to match the orange ones forming on Rodimus and he _didn’t care_.

The uneven rhythm eroded Rodimus’ self-control faster than anything else Rung had done this session. When Rodimus tipped his haltered helm back Rung could see the speedster drooling freely around the bit. The oral solvent dripping from his chin was no match for the streams of lubricant running down their thighs. He wriggled and snorted when Rung pulled back, small hands buried in his hip joints expertly controlling him so he couldn’t chase the retreating spike.

Rung’s deliberate slide-and-slam pace eventually robbed the ponymech of any semblance of discipline. Champing and tossing his helm, Rodimus pawed frantically at the mat with his forehooves, waving one desperately in a begging motion for Rung to _please pick up the pace I’m dying here_ while his high-performance engine ticked closer to redline, throbbing through them both.

By now Rung was all but oblivious to Rodimus’ silent and not-so-silent pleading, lighter engine buzzing away in higher counterpart to the deeper roar of the high-power one. He drank in the enthusiastic participation of his cohort-mate like an Empty given life-sustaining Energon. His helm was thrown back, optics staring sightlessly up at the ceiling of his washracks. The orange mech’s mouthplates parted on silent gasps broken by little throaty whimpers of pleasure each time he surged back into Rodimus’ willing valve. He was simply too far gone in pleasure to make more coherent sounds.

Overload struck without warning.

One moment Rung was slowly pulling his spike from the desperate milking embrace of Rodimus’ internal callipers, the next his hips jerked and he hunched forward over Rodimus’ pelvic armour, entire frame shaking with the sudden release of charge that had built from the moment Rodimus and Ultra Magnus arrived in his quarters.

Lightning jumped from mech to mech, Rodimus’ valve clamping down _hard_ as the electrical discharge triggered his own release and he followed Rung into overload.

The sudden onslaught of excess charge from the mech below him was too much for Rung’s systems. Before his own overload even finished clearing from his systems he crumpled limply over Rodimus with fingers and spike still buried in the other mechs frame, slipping blissfully offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last chapter of smut.  
> Next is aftercare and fluff.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tidy-up and snuggles.

The surge of fluid shooting into his desperately rippling valve tumbled Rodimus into his third overload of the session. He wasn’t sure what sound he made around the bit because it was drowned out by a shriek from his engine and the clatter of metal on metal as Rung collapsed over his lower back.

Bracing himself to support the extra weight, Rodimus waited impatiently for the immediate post-overload haze to clear from his processors. The first thing he noticed when it did was that the Field entwined with his was absolutely serene in a way that could only mean one thing.

Rung was out for the count.

_Too fragging cute._

Rumbling affectionately, Rodimus pinged Ultra Magnus.

::Rodimus?::

::I’m fine but Specs has gone and knocked himself out. Do you mind giving me a hand?::

::I will be right there::

Ultra Magnus cut the comm and Rodimus could hear him rushing through the habsuite. He shuffled on the spot, turning just enough to be able to see the expression on the SIC’s face when he entered. The smaller mech’s spike depressurised suddenly, sliding from Rodimus’ valve as frame autonomics took over in his unconscious state. Rodimus felt the primary armour of Rung’s array brush over his exposed valve, dragging deliciously across the pleated protoform.

The door opened and Ultra Magnus ducked inside, distracting Rodimus from the sensation of Rung’s fluids trickling from his valve. When the SIC saw his Cohort-mates the faint worry on his faceplates melted into the fond little smile only his Cohort got to see. Moving efficiently, Ultra Magnus carefully disengaged Rung’s hands from Rodimus’ hipjoints and lifted him off the Captain.

Rung didn’t even twitch.

Freed of his burden, Rodimus sat back on his heels and watched Magnus check their Cohot-mate over. As soon as they were both satisfied Rung was unharmed the SIC laid the small mech carefully on the mat and began to help Rodimus divest himself of his gear. Ginger’s tail was carefully stowed in subspace while they stacked everything else neatly beside the grooming kit for cleaning up later.

Working together they wiped Rung down and checked his status. While the orange mech appeared be in deep recharge Rodimus still pinged Ratchet before letting Magnus help him clean his own lubricant-smeared plating. When they were done he followed Magnus on wobbly legs as the larger mech carried Rung through to his berthroom and laid him on the berth.

Magnus helped Rodimus crawl up beside the smaller mech and went to let Ratchet in. Rodimus cuddled close to the recharging mech, savouring the contact and physical aftermath of a really _good_ frag. He listened to the purr of Rung’s systems and let his mind wander.

Rung started booting up just as Ratchet and Ultra Magnus entered the berthroom.

The smaller mech moved closer to Rodimus’ frame before he was even fully online, humming happily deep in his vocaliser. His field was amazingly relaxed and without his glasses the absolutely blissed-out expression on his faceplates was clearly visible. Rodimus felt a medical scan tingling over his plating but ignored Ratchet and Magnus mumbling to each other, focusing instead on the mech beside him as they left the berthroom.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Rodimus said, kissing the antenna that threatened to poke his nose. “’Bout time you woke up.”

Alarm curled through the smaller mech’s Field as he shot to full awareness, sitting bolt upright and twisting around so he could check Rodimus over. His faceplates creased with anxiety as he ran his fingers over little dull patches the halter had made in the finish of Rodimus’ helm.

“Rodimus! I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mea-” Rung started to apologise, plating clinching down so he shrank visibly.

“I’m fine, Magnus helped us clean up and Ratchet’s already checked in.” Rodimus cut him off, sitting up and capturing Rung’s hands. “Nothing for him to do except leave again.”

Rodimus deliberately filled his Field with calm, rubbing little circles into the backs of Rng’s hands with his thumbs. Rung gave him a dubious look but his plating slowly relaxed and he curled his fingers around Rodimus’ grip.

They stayed like that until Ultra Magnus came back with two cubes of Energon which he forced into their hands, glaring until they both took a sip. As soon as they started to consume the fuel he relaxed and let his Field join with theirs, calm and sheltering. Rung sifted so more of his armour was in contact with Rodimus’ as they drank.

“So what did you think, Rung?” Rodimus asked.

He didn’t push, waiting for the older mech to answer in his own time. They were halfway through their cubes before Rung had organised his thoughts enough to speak.

“It was very different from my past experiences.” He admitted quietly, heat radiating from his faceplates as he continued. “I… would welcome the chance to do this again, if that was alright with both of you.”

Rodimus beamed and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Rung’s cheek structure. Ultra Magnus’ Field was full of welcome as it wrapped around the smaller mechs.

“It’s absolutely fine by me, you were fragging _amazing_.” Rodimu said, raising an optical ridge at Ultra Magnus. “What do you think, Mags?”

“I would like to be present next time, to ensure that Rung doesn’t exceed his own limits.” Magnus responded with the same tone he did to deliver reports on ship functioning.

Rodimus made an undignified snorting noise at the SIC’s sneaky sense of humour but it took Rung an uncharacteristically long time to work out what had just been said. When he did his Field surged with conflicting emotions, spurring both Rodimus and Magnus into action.

Rodimus wrapped arms and Field around the smaller mech, holding him securely while Ultra Magnus enfolded them both in the powerful protection of his armoured frame. Their engines set up a soothing purr that vibrated right through all three mecha and the berth they were sitting on.

“Thank you.” Rung whispered, relaxing into the shelter of his Cohort.

“Anytime, Specs.” Rodimus murmured against the orange helm. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. My first foray into ponyplay. I'll see you guys in hell.


End file.
